


Family

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorder(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Overdosing, radiodust - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: His family had always been a mess.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 506





	Family

Their entire family had been fucked up, Angel had always known that. Even without much comparison, he knew nothing about how they acted and interacted was normal or healthy.

Ma had always been a little bit of a basket case. With her curls and frocks she looked almost innocent, but one word wrong and she could have a gun to your throat before you even had the chance to blink. She was never without a glass of something alcoholic, and even as a passerby might think her mostly harmless, she had killed almost as many as her husband.

Domesticity was her only lifeline to sanity. She maintained herself with chores and niceties, wrapped up in her dreamworld, imagining herself far away from the nightmare she was ensnared in.

She had thrown a bottle at Angel once, before breaking down entirely and had been utterly inconsolable for hours after. He had to tuck her into bed, trying to avoid how her glassy, empty stare bore into his soul.

She had been dead in her bed just a few weeks later. Someone had spiked her drink.

Henrion had never exactly been dad of the year, but after his wife's death he had been unreasonable. He rarely talked to his children, with the slight exception of his eldest, and spent most of his days counting his money and screaming at anyone who tried to talk to him.

The first year was the worst. Angel couldn't count the amount of times he'd had to drag himself up from off the floor, bloodied and tired of even fucking trying.

Arackniss seemed initially to cope the best out of all of them, following in his father's legacy with ease and quickly becoming a high and recognizable figure in the mob, a threat all unto himself. He never smiled, never laughed, never cried. Just stared coldly at you or stuck something sharp into your neck.

It took Angel years to realize his brother wasn't really eating, and spent most of his time in a drug-induced dissociative state. He was still more functional than Angel himself, but it wasn't healthy. Weaning him off it had been... Painful. Arduous. He didn't even know if it had been worth it. The amount of times that Arackniss had punched him certainly hadn't been nice. But at least the fucker was eating for once, and spent more than a few hours actually cognizant.

Molly had once tried ecstasy and became hooked. She was the friendliest of them all by far, but also the hardest to hold a conversation with. She often grew bored and just... Left. Even halfway through a sentence that she herself had been speaking.

She never really got involved in the mob business. Sure, she would pull out a gun if some gang got too cocky, but otherwise she didn't interact. Sometimes she did help with the planning, and personally Angel was just happy that she had seen the least death out of the lot of them.

Still, there were some nights where she would mourn the loss of her mother into insanity, screaming into her pillow and collapsing into a heap, crying herself to sleep.

At least she still loved him. 

And Angel was just... Angel. Well, his name was actually Martin, but the guys he got paid to fuck called him Angel, and it stuck.

He spent most of his days trafficking drugs and people, not thinking about anything, picking up scraps, trying to laugh even when blood filled his lungs.

His mother had resented him, his father hated him, his brother despised him, and his sister was barely even aware enough to recognise he existed.

And he became lost in a world of sex and violence. It was fun, sometimes, and usually the thrill of pointing a gun or inhaling a baggie of powder could wash away his worries and make him laugh as freely as he had been able to as a child.

But sometimes it just couldn't happen. Sometimes, he sat atop a building and wondered about just slipping off.

Arackniss had to snap eventually. He knew that it was inevitable, but it still stunned him when the brother he loved had pulled a gun on him in the midst of an argument, and blown his right eye into nothing.

Blood flying, as he dropped to his knees, screaming, sobbing, retching. He hadn't seen the horror on his brother's face, nor had he seen the aftermath, when Arackniss had pointed the gun at his own head.

Because he had just ran, desperate to get away, chest heaving and contracting and _oh god oh fuck everything fucking hurt._

And his fingers had traced the needle in his pocket, and he had dragged it across his throat, feverish, before injecting it directly into his wrist.

The overdose was fast and not too painful, all things considered. His body had slipped into the canal. His heart had stopped before he had even hit the water.

Molly had found his body.

Apon re-meeting in hell, Henrion had told him coldly what his death had done to his sister. What losing both of her siblings in just an hour had done to her mind.

She had never smiled again, never spoke again outside of brief one-word answers. Never looked anyone in the eye, never took care of herself. Most of her time was spent high and curled up in the corner of her room, sobbing with tears that she was too tired to produce. Dry heaving and gasping.

She went to kill when he told her to kill, and stole what he asked her to. He found her dead in a shootout, in the end.

Angel found her in Hell, as he did his brother, and found it too hard to speak to them.

Arackniss still hated him. Henrion still hated him. And despite her bubbly and cheery exterior, he could tell Molly was a fucking mess. He didn't know where ma was.

At least... At least he had the hotel now.

His... New family.

Vaggie could be a pill, but she meant well, and she had her moments of softness. She had her moments of sweetness and kindness and laughter. He enjoyed the few times he could make her chuckle.

Charlie was bubbly and almost unbelievably altruistic, always ready to help, supporting him through his declines, helping him as he writhed from withdrawal. Always a hand on the small of his back or a beaming smile when he did well.

Husk was a miserable bag of bones, but regardless a surprisingly kind one that knew when to shut up and just... Listen. To let a drunk Angel speak at his bar, and respond as he knew best. He gave great advice.

Nifty was a little ball of energy; adorable. She reminded him a little of Molly sometimes, but when she grinned at him it didn't seem to be forced beyond 50 levels of agony. Sure, it was a little insane, but it was genuine.

And Alastor...

Angel had spent the better part of a year pining over that fucker before the radio demon himself had been the one to finally initiate a kiss. Having one of the most powerful demons in Hell as your boyfriend was sort of amazing.

He still went to visit his blood family, sometimes. He still loved them

But surrounded by these idiots, laughing and caring and, certainly in the case of Alastor, _giving affection,_ he couldn't be happier. 

...Not that he would ever tell them that, of course.


End file.
